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update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-09-29 12:01:41 -07:00
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writing/soot.md
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@ -1,6 +1,6 @@
> Attention! Station alert level has been set to white!
>
> The station is suffering dangerously high levels of glimmer, there are several active psionic threats, or there is another significant epistemic emergency. Turn off all glimmer probers. Seek psionic insulation. Psychics should report to the Mantes for mindbreaking.
> The station is suffering dangerously high levels of glimmer, there are several active psionic threats, or there is another significant epistemic emergency. Turn off all glimmer probers. Seek psionic insulation. Psychics should report to the Mantis for mindbreaking.
Abby clutched at the armrests of her seat as the evac shuttle, still docked to the station, jolted with an explosion. Crates slammed against the wall. Lockers in the med bay, not yet bolted securely, wobbled and rattled in place, threatening to tip over. Everyone jounced in their seats, glasses and hats — many of them the insulated headgear the Mantes had passed out — clattered to the floor. She shrieked, though so did several others aboard.
@ -10,7 +10,7 @@ The captain, still standing outside the airlocks, was shouting down the hall, vo
> Attention! Station alert level has been set to white!
>
> The station is suffering dangerously high levels of glimmer, there are several active psionic threats, or there is another significant epistemic emergency. Turn off all glimmer probers. Seek psionic insulation. Psychics should report to the Mantes for mindbreaking.
> The station is suffering dangerously high levels of glimmer, there are several active psionic threats, or there is another significant epistemic emergency. Turn off all glimmer probers. Seek psionic insulation. Psychics should report to the Mantis for mindbreaking.
"Mama, what's–"
@ -38,11 +38,11 @@ There had not even been a perceivable decrease in the unnerving tang of glimmer
She had been there, sitting in her flight chair, running her paw through her headfur, just this twelve-year-old mouse her dad always called 'little Soot', and then she was at the cockpit in a wildly different body, sitting in front of unfamiliar controls.
She/he/this body cried out in shock and agony, for the captain, whose body she now inhabited, had been well and truly singed by the explosion of the prober, to the point where the CMO, the ever-kindly Dr. R, was caught in the act of slathering ointment on the side of her/his/this body's face. They both — these two bodies no longer inhabited by the correct minds — stared at each other in shock and horror.
She/he/this body cried out in shock and agony, for the captain, whose body she now inhabited, had been well and truly singed by the explosion of the prober, to the point where the CMO, the young and kindly Dr. R, was caught in the act of slathering ointment on the side of her/his/this body's face. They both — these two bodies no longer inhabited by the correct minds — stared at each other in shock and horror.
"No no no–" Dr. R/not Dr. R was saying.
Abby/the captain/this body wailed and clutched at the console, mashing buttons in a panicked attempt to find something, *anything* solid and known, something to anchor herself/himself/this body. The shuttle slewed sideways.
Abby/the captain/this body wailed and clutched at the console, mashing buttons in a panicked attempt to find something, *anything* solid and known, something to anchor herself/himself/this body. The shuttle slewed sideways, back in toward the station and away from the FTL jump point.
None of the rest of that otherwise prosaic afternoon made it into their dream. It always ended in silence, a warm rush of air to the face that blended seamlessly into the move into wakefulness.
@ -52,4 +52,29 @@ They would make their way through the day with all the same practiced ease as ev
"Captain on deck," the automated system announced as soon as their ID was recognized. The faint chime that followed, a thing doubtless engineered to sound soothing and reassuring, always sounded inquisitive, as though the station was curious to hear their thoughts on the matter.
"Yeth, yeth," they muttered under their breath, completing the ritual. "I'm here now."
"Yes, yes," they muttered under their breath, though with their lisp, with the dream still dogging them, it came out a breathy *yeth, yeth.* "I'm here now."
The seats in the board room were, thankfully, all full already — or had been, as the rest of the command staff rose to their feat. Soot waved them off with a smile. "Sit, sit. Sorry I'm late. Couldn't decide between the five identical outfits they give me," they said breezily. They let their expression warm into a lopsided smile — though all smiles are lopsided when only half of your snout works. "That, or you're all here *early* because it's Dr. R's last shift on this rotation? Congratulations, my dear friend."
Applause around the room. Earnest applause, too, Soot was pleased to notice. Dr. R's reputation as one of the kindest, most competent CMOs in the Delta sector was well-earned. The old man was positively beaming, the wrinkles on his face showing how truly, deeply he inhabited all his own smiles.
There were short speeches from all of the rest of command, all veterans. The head of security praised his efficiency in getting the crew back up and moving when they were injured. The chief justice praised his commitment to treating *everyone,* not just the 'good ones' on board. The logistics officer jokingly grumbled about just how much of a stickler he was about turning on suit coordinates, which so often degraded during cryosleep.
When attention finally turned to Soot, they smiled and stood, paws clasped behind their back, and said, "I've known Dr. R since I was a kid, and must say that there are few who are as cool under pressure as he is. I certainly do my best, but...well."
Chuckles around the table. Soot knew they had a bit of a temper.
(Full command, CMO is Dr. R, now nearing retirement, greetings etc)
(Command ethos: older sibling, wants to support the station)
(Glimmer keeps rising)
(Mantis critted, but revived, talks of hearing lots of mites)
(Throughout, memories of Abby, plurality becoming more evident)
(Finally, near the end of the shift, botanist caught trying to anchor a second prober)
(After shift, on shuttle, sits out in the common area rather than bridge to talk, Abby starts to take front, the usual moment of confusion, then talking with Dr. R)